To the Tenth Power
by Unsuspected
Summary: Life as a demigod has its ups and downs. It can be crazy, exciting, good, bad, or anything else you could think of. Series of 100-word pieces focusing on various characters from the books.
1. Stained

She fought herself as she painted picture after picture. Nobody wanted to see this, but _she_ had to, and painting was the only was to clear her head of those horrible images. Her red paint, which she had a large quantity of due to her fondness of the color, had nearly disappeared. She's painted war. Blood is everywhere. Every picture she's painted today—twenty total—has the deep red stain. But there's another color that invades her mind as the red intrudes on the canvas. Sea green. The battlefield was stained with red, but her heart was stained with green.

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**AN: 100 words, according to Word. Hopefully, I did okay.**


	2. Kiss

For a moment, she considers it. He just might die, and never come back. That suggestion of a kiss could easily be the last words he ever speaks. So, she ought to take advantage of it, shouldn't she? She should just let their last moments together be like that, shouldn't she? If he is going to die, he might as well end it in this way. But, the last time she could have kissed him (and did), he came back alive. So, she doesn't kiss him, and leaves him the promise that it could happen some other time…if he survives.

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**AN: Not unique, but used anyway. Again, hopefully it's decent.**


	3. Stop

_Shut up! _That's all she can tell herself. She wants that voice in her head to stop talking for a while. Why must she always be thinking, her brain eternally on overdrive? Suspicions get you nowhere if you have nothing else. So, she has one piece of support for this flimsy theory. She shouldn't be drawing conclusions like that. It isn't wise. But she can't turn off that voice that tells her something's wrong. It's forever echoing her worst fears, her most frightening predictions. _Just stop it!_ Theses things get her nowhere, so they must be put to an end.

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**AN: Not my best, but hopefully okay.**


	4. Blade

And, before he realized that nothing was guaranteed, that he might've been too late, he stabbed himself. He made the move to kill himself. People think that this is the last thing he had ever felt—the blade crashing through his skin. They're wrong. How very wrong they are. It could be an easy mistake, but it's one that changes the tale forever. It was not the last thin he'd felt. In fact, he never really experienced it at all. No, the blade was not the last thing Luke Castellan felt. It was the touch of the girl he loved.

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**AN: Purposeful shift of past/present tense. Hopefully it's not awful.**


	5. Loud

Full blast, music blares from Rachel's paint-covered iPod. First, it's a slow, would-be soft classical song. Then, it's a blasting rock song that could make her parents go deaf. Third is a catchy pop song that has been number one on the charts for weeks. Whatever song it is, it can never be loud enough. Nothing can ever be loud enough to let her escape. Screams will always be louder than songs. The blood will always make more of an impression than the paint. The limp bodies can't be replaced by the clothes and trash scattered all over her floor.

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**AN: More R.E.D. I'll pray that it's halfway decent.**


	6. Unaware

She didn't know for a week. A whole week, he'd been missing. All this time, she had thought he was with his girlfriend, laughing and having a good time at camp. And he was…before he wasn't. He disappeared. Poof. Gone. _Just like that._ Not that she'd know. No one had told her for a week. His own mother was unaware that her boy was missing. Part of her wished that no one had told her, that she remained blissfully uninformed of this. She could have kept thinking that he was okay. But she knows now that her son is gone.

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**AN: Out-of-place. I needed it. Maybe it's okay.**


	7. Understand

She's talking to him like she knows him better than anyone else in the world. She's pretending to get everything. She reminds him of one of those counselors he'd been forced to see, always being all "I know jut how you feel". If the girl hadn't already helped him, he might've punched her. That's how much he hated her for acting like she could ever understand. Nobody could fully comprehend what he had been through. Nobody. Then, she surprises him. The girl _does_ understand, than anyone else ever has. She seems to understand perfectly. Look who was right. She was.

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**AN: End's choppy, but hopefully the rest is okay.**


	8. Complex

At first, it's a pleasant sort of surprise, discovering the existence of gods. It's like waking up in the morning and finding out that school is cancelled. It's a lot like that. You see all the great things about it. For school it's: "no bullies today!" For Greek gods it's: "I knew I wasn't crazy!" Then, of course, you start seeing the dark side of things. You start seeing what's like the extra day of school. You have a million more things to be afraid of, but there's some good too. It's a complex sort of feeling. Good or bad.

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**AN: Could be anyone, really. Hopefully it captures the feeling well.**


	9. Slaves

Apparently, their homework is to give an example of slavery today.

"Half-bloods," he whispers, recalling everything he's done as one, everything that others have been through simply because they were demigods. They are just slaves of the gods, when it all comes down to it. They'd fight because they had to, and die because they had to. Who knows if the gods would care? Who knows if their mortal parents would care? Who knows if _anyone_ would care? Demigods are slaves. Doing what they must for their masters. The gods are cruel masters, giving torturous tasks for others to complete.

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**AN: Odd, but slaves was the word.**


	10. Redheaded

He's kind of curious when he sees the red hair. Is there something about that particular color of hair that makes you especially annoying? There was Nancy Bobofit first. She was awful. Now, of course, there's her. Rachel Elizabeth Dare. He's met her once, and already he's strangely annoyed by her. Yeah, maybe it's the fact that they're redheaded. It must make them extremely maddening. Sure, Rachel hasn't been all that rude (if anything it's him), but he certainly doesn't have a good first impression. Whether it's the hair color or not, he has the feeling the girl's a nightmare.

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**AN: Nothing against redheads. It just seems to be a pattern.**


	11. Rumors

When fish start spreading rumors about him, even he knows that it's bad. When the gossip is all about him and a certain girl, it's awful. When he has to tell the fish to leave, it's terrible. When he can tell exactly what they're chattering about, he doesn't even want to think about it being spread all over the underwater world. Even though he knows it will be. He thought the water was his escape from all of the rumors. He supposes it isn't. When even the fish start spreading rumors about you, it's time to get used to it.

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**AN: Fun to write. With luck, it's fun to read, too.**


	12. Death

_Lose a love to worse than death…_Worse than death. Worse than death. The last line is terrifying. It's confusing. Are all prophecies like this? Are they all so horrible that the demigod it is given to must hide what the Oracle predicts? Are they all as scared as she is now? Suddenly, she is reminded of Percy. He'd said only a fraction of his prophecy. And the Great Prophecy…Is there any prophecy in existence that is cheerful? As she ponders it, paying half-attention to her conversation, he says the word…Death. _Lose a love to worse than death…_She looks away quickly.

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**AN: Might work.**


	13. Thesaurus

Oh, how she wishes to grab a dictionary and find another definition, how she wishes there was a translation. And, oh, how she wants to draw out a thesaurus from that book-filled shelf and find an alternate ending. Gods, how she yearns to pull a math book out from the pile and find a formula for avoiding death-granting prophecies. But, no, intelligence won't help her now. And, no, words won't either. Math is useless in this situation, too. There is so much that wisdom can accomplish, but avoiding death isn't one of them. Oh, how she wishes that it was.

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**AN: Sort of odd, but for the prompt I like it.**


	14. Know

Just so you know, all of you unclaimed demigods, you are cared about. Just so you know, all of you minor gods (and your children, too), you are important, and we know it. Maybe we should tell you, the mortals who can see, you aren't insane. You might care to know, mister-subject-of-the-prophecy, you aren't alone. And, Olympians, your children do happen to notice your absence. To all you mortals who never knew the truth, your child will be surely in Elysium, your child was a hero, don't worry. And, everyone who thinks that no one cares, know that you're wrong.

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**AN: Bet you thought it was going to be Annabeth again.**


	15. Peace

Every year, he looked back toward his home that lasted too shortly every year. It had become a habit, a sort of tendency to get one final glance at everything he loved before he left it for yet another year, unsure of what could happen next. Every year, he snuck a last peek at Camp Half-blood, gave a sad smile, and left. And, then, he stopped. Just like that, he had no doubts, and he couldn't be more at peace. He didn't think anything in the world could possibly be better, and he was for once right. Everything was okay.

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**AN: Written a couple of times, but still not my favorite.**


	16. Decision

He stands there for a moment, looking entirely helpless and confused. Typical. It's a very familiar expression. That was their faces when they first walked into cabin eleven…and never left. This kid would stay lost, confused, forever in the background, hated by everyone, and ignored by everyone, even his parents. He stands there, used to being judged, waiting for the final decision of his new cabin-mates. For a minute, the campers pity him, how innocent he seems, but then it's back to their bitter thoughts of how this kid was now just another one of them, the abandoned, the unwanted.

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**AN: I'm currently paying special attention to the Hermes cabin.**


	17. Perception

You see, it's all about perception. It's one of the first lessons they taught you, see things how you see them, not how others want you to (even if those others are your parents, whose views put a roof over your head). It's all up to how you see things, and you can see things whatever way you'd like. Maybe all this prophecy stuff about Percy is less serious than one would first assume. And you can paint a picture, Miss Dare, and it can be a real masterpiece. Yes, indeed, it all depends on the way you see things.

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**AN: I felt the need to write this for no reason.**


	18. Confused

And he remembers that vocabulary word from his eighth-grade class. Synaesthesia, it was, and he couldn't spell it, pronounce it, or read it, but he knows what it means because he had to try... Confusion of the senses. And that's what it feels like. With lemon soap and honey-blonde, with strawberries and stormy gray, and he's just oh so confused. She has a knack for doing just that, and overcomplicating just about everything. And she thinks way too much, so she just might be rubbing off on him as every thought he's had is smeared together in a messy collage.

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**AN: I almost laughed while writing this. I'm not sure why.**


	19. Shoes

Put yourself in his shoes. You've noticed them. They're obviously there, impossible to fill. He can't live up to the expectations. He can't fill those shoes any more than you can. They're like those really tacky red ones; you know _those_ ones that seem to fill up the room.  
And you ask yourself, "How would one fill shoes like that?"  
The simple answer, of course, is that one cannot do such a thing. Even he finds it impossible.  
For the first time, you've realize everyone expects him to do the impossible.  
Maybe that exercise really is good for you.

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**AN: Here's to some random inspiration!**


	20. Hello

"I mean," the redhead told her friend, "the least he could've done was say, 'hello'!"  
The girl beside her nodded sympathetically, pity in her eyes. "I know," she replied, "some people these days."  
"—and 'Percy Gotta-Go!' Oh my god, what is up with_ that_?" Rachel added, somehow skirting around the fact that she had been run through with a sword this winter break.  
Oh, well, he still didn't say hello. That was still too impolite to go unnoticed.  
"Some people," her friend repeated.  
"You have absolutely no idea." But, as she was Rachel, rude introductions weren't her biggest problem.

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**AN: Study hall rambling.**


	21. Cappuccino

He was a fruit smoothie, calm, but a bit mixed up as well.  
She was a cappuccino, with her way-too-wide eyes, and attitude like someone had given her a bit too much caffeine. She was the over-caffeinated coffee that kept everyone on their toes.  
He was the opposite. A bit messed up, he was, like too much had been put into one human. But he was relaxed, just going on with life.  
_She_ too was a smoothie, so like him. And _she _was one of those smoothies with an intelligence boost.  
But, they'd been thrown together, fruit smoothie or cappuccino.

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**AN: No idea.**


	22. Silver

"Why do we wear silver?" Bianca said suddenly.  
"It's not just a color," Phoebe said.  
"Huh?"  
"Well, you've been growing up in school, so I suppose you've taken an art class."  
"Yes."  
"Well, silver isn't just the color of the moon. There's the white tint to silver—it represents our purity. But it's made of black—strength, equality, et cetera. And, of course, there's that sparkle in it, hope."  
"All colors of light together make white, right? Does that mean anything?"  
"Yes, Bianca, there is of course, the representation of unity."  
Silver meant a bit more to the Hunter now.

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**AN: No clue.**


	23. Favor

And, Athena, you've heard her prayers. You've seen your daughter crying because of it. You know how awful it must feel. You are, after all, the goddess of wisdom, so you should understand. And all she's asking for is that one favor. Sure it's not all that small, and sure it's not all in your hands, but you could at least try. She's been praying and praying to you, with every mealtime offering comes the same echoed plea, the same desperation, the same feeling of hopelessness in the murmuring. "Please, don't let him die, oh, just don't let him die..."

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**AN: Less forced than my others, so that's a nice change.**


	24. Mother

He wonders just how much she can see. He's definitely curious just how good of sight someone can posses. Not only can she see through the Mist, she can see through the tension, the emotion, the awkwardness, and everything in again, maybe that's a mother thing. Maybe that's the reason that parents are here anyway, to see just what's going on behind those eyes worked so hard to keep emotionless. To see right through to their child's deepest problems, to problems they're child hardly even noticed. Mother or not, Sally Jackson's sight is too good for her son's liking.

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**AN: A midnight attempt at logic. I'm not sure it worked out.**


	25. Chess

Let's play a game of chess, shall we? It really is fun, isn't it?  
You'll be black; I'll be white, okay?  
I'll set up the board, if that's okay with you. Is it?  
I'll be going first, then, okay?  
Oh, dear, I shouldn't have made that move. I regret this. Do you know that? Do you?  
That wasn't that smart of me. Not at all smart, was it?  
Checkmate, you say. You've won, haven't you?  
Congratulations. That's what you'd like to hear, is it not?  
But have you really, truly won this game?  
I don't think you have. Do you?

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**AN: D'you understand who?**


	26. She

She is a firecracker, explosive, unpredictable. She is a tornado, sweeping up everything he's ever known. She is a thunderstorm, complicating things to the max. She is an owl, intelligent. She is a hurricane, strong, fierce, captivating. She is a scar, a reminder. She is a work of art, complex, thought provoking. She is everything. She is a superhero. She is a problem, but she's also the solution. She is a volcano, chaos. She is a nightmare. She is comfort. She is home. She is imperfectly perfect. She is the thing that keeps him alive. She is his best friend.

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**AN: I had Bianca and Nico diAngelo in mind for the last one.**


	27. Baby

It's sad, she thinks, that someone like him could show up camp, get claimed, and be granted a quest in such a short period of time. It's not that she's jealous. Oh, she'd never be jealous of that punk. It's more that he's so young. Of course, there've been many other campers much younger than he, but he's so fragile, so innocent, so ignorant, like a baby. It doesn't stop her from hating him, of course, nothing could, but she pities him. Is he ready yet? He has no chance. Oh, please, oh, please, she prays, let him come back.

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**AN: Felt like writng something like this, but it only turned out ish.**


	28. Could've

All the things he could've done drift into his mind. He could've done what he was told, taken just Thalia, not Annabeth, Luke, and Thalia, only Thalia, and gotten her to safety, to Camp Half-Blood. He could've been a bit more clever, avoided the monsters, warned the three, something. He could've paid better attention, kept his ears alert for suspicious sounds, been a bit more cautious about the coffee shops the four had stopped at, inspected that rockstar before asking for an autograph. All the things he could've done flooded back into his mind. It didn't change a single thing.

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**AN: I feel like I've cheated using this (it's sort of two words).**


	29. Daughter

It was simple, Mr. Dare repeated to himself. It was only that baby uncomfortableness described so often by new parents. Little Rachel Elizabeth Dare was a baby. She cried, squirmed, and fussed. That was what babies did, wasn't it? Surely it was entirely normal when those green orbs sparked with fear. It was just because the world was so big, and she was so small, wasn't it? Surely that was it. There couldn't possibly be something abnormal about his daughter. A wonderfully average child. A wonderful heiress, that daughter of his would be. And never would Rachel be a freak.

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**AN: Here's some more talk of Rachel, just because I felt like it.**


	30. Bookstore

She was a bookstore person in more ways than one.  
There was of course, the sense in which she loved visiting bookstores. She liked knowing that there was always more to learn, more to discover, and knowing that it was only a page turn away. She liked the feeling that so much could be explained, that there was a perfectly logical explanation for _why_ things were as they were.  
And, of course, there's the meaning that she is a bookstore. So organized, full of knowledge, she was, always gathering more.  
She was a bookstore person in more ways than one.

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**AN: Wasn't sure what to do with "bookstore".**


	31. Prove

So, go ahead, child, go ahead and get the bolt. Go ahead and risk that precious life of yours. Make that no good father proud, proud of your bravery, proud of your success, proud of you. Show them, hero, that you are great. Show them, mighty child of Poseidon, that you can do it. You were told to retrieve the bolt. You told yourself to retrieve your mother. So, boy, what are you waiting for? A better time, perhaps? Or a quest in Maine? Because those aren't coming. You'll be waiting forever. So, what are you waiting for? Prove yourself.

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**AN: Random inspiration is the cause. Can't explain, but it's still an idea.**


	32. Seven

There's no way you could have known back then what all of it had meant. You were seven. You didn't even know what a quail was. You certainly didn't know what you were. And does any seven-year-old really know? Does any child have themselves figured put at that point? Life always changes, and when you're seven, in love with Legos and Spiderman, you have no idea who you're going to become. Did you ever consider that in five years your life would change forever? Did you know that in five years, you might actually start to understand who you were?

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**AN: As I'm not seven, I have no idea how realistic this is.**


	33. Secret

It's a secret. It's a secret that she's scared. It's a secret that she's unsure of herself for once. No one is allowed to know. So, she puts on that brave face, acts like nothing scares her, and hopes for the best. Maybe it'll work.  
It's a secret. It's a secret that he's scared. It's a secret that he isn't all that ready. No one is allowed to know. But, he needs help. He can't get through this feeling alone. He knows that he can't. So, he shows how he feels, and knows that friends will stand by his side.

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**AN: I hope you can tell who they are... Well, Annabeth & Grover.**


	34. Shield

You know your real job, don't you? You still know what your number one priority is, don't you? You remember that. I hope you do. If you don't, all is lost. Remember that. Just keep that in mind. The reason your with him. To protect her. Keep it in your mind, okay? Do that, and you aren't as evil as everyone thinks you are. Remember, you're her shield from that ugly, ugly world. She's still that little girl you met in the alley. She's still that little girl you made that promise to many years ago. Please don't forget that.

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**AN: Is there something with all the s?**


	35. Rain

Michael liked the sound of the rain, tap, tap, tapping against rooftops. He was one of the few that were pleased to hear the drumming of the rain that one day when rain finally disturbed sunny Camp Half-Blood. It had its own personal rhythm, and, as a child of Apollo, god of music and poetry (among other things), he had to appreciate it. And, while most hated it, Michael had to smile at the sound. He loved it. And, when he came crashing into the water, the last thing he heard was the tap of water falling, just like rain.

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**AN: This just felt right to me when I wrote it. Still? Maybe.**


	36. Balanced

See that set if scales, gleaming on the black silk? See them reflecting off the crossed swords? Did you notice? Did you notice how they're perfectly in balance? He would have liked that. He would have. He would have liked knowing that he did make a difference, in the end. He made a big difference, and, really, he's just a much a hero as anyone. Traitor, some would call him, twice over. Once good, then bad, then, in his last moments, good again. He was always good, though. And, because of him, the scales are perfectly balanced, like he wanted.

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**AN: This one has an end! It's a miracle for sure!**


	37. Blueprint

Don't you wish that life was as easy as making a blueprint? You can just add a supporting piece here, erase something there. Eventually, everything would fall into place because architecture works in that wonderful way. Everything is perfectly logical. Math, physics, the whole of it. None of that depending on others. You've gotten used to both ideas, life and architecture. You've adjusted to the fact that one will never be the other (end of story). Yet, there's still that stubborn bit of you that wishes that life (what a trivial subject it is) made the same amount of sense.

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**AN: Confession time: Honestly, this should have been posted ages ago.**


	38. Computer

Just hit the save button and pick up from where you left off tomorrow. He'll still be the boy from cabin eleven, and you the girl from cabin six. You'll both be runaways who've found homes. You'll both be perfectly normal by demigod standards, and he just might look at you tomorrow (and you just might blush). You'll smile and laugh and talk. Everything will be the same, but you'll still feel like something missing. Hit save, turn off the computer, and try again tomorrow. Maybe something will be different. Maybe things will improve. Technology always does sooner or later.

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**AN: Here's to 100% on my quiz (I was sure I'd fail).**


	39. Finally

Spitting poison, the drakon seems to be as full of hate as any monster (including her, she thinks). It seems to know, know that this is the girl who had made all the wrong choices. It seems to recognise that look in her eyes, fear, hate, love, confusion, sadness, and every other emotion. She is nothing but feeling. As an actress, she has to be, a puppet, she has to be well disguised, behind makeup, smiles, and lies. She feels her once beautiful face burn, and it's a soothing sort of pain. Her last thought is a single word. "Finally."

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**Another confession: _I_ don't even think she said that.**


	40. Immortality

He would admit it. Sometimes he did wonder how different things would be if he had just become a god. Would things be better? Would they be worse? Would things be easier? Would they be harder? What would happen to Annabeth...and Grover, Rachel, Tyson, and his other friends? Would they get along? Would they hate him? Would he hate them? He thought back to everything... Back to camp, back to Annabeth...and Grover, Rachel, and Tyson. How well everything was going. Who needed immortality when you had that? Who would want immortality now? Suddenly, Percy was very pleased with his decision.

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**AN: I'll bet ten galleons (or drachmas) you're bored.**


	41. Miss

He misses his mom. It sounds ridiculous saying out loud. He's fifteen (nearly sixteen, but let's not mention that), but he misses her so much that it's unbearable. Her absence is particularly noticeable when he's gone, gone, gone on a scary, scary, scary mission, and he still doesn't know if he's coming back. And, he knows it's a silly thing to miss, but he misses her blue food. He longs to hear her laugh (which he wishes was around more often). What he wouldn't give for a blue waffle and a laugh right now. Most of all, he misses her.

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**AN: Percy is just adorable like this in my head sometimes.**


	42. Mistake

Just admit that you've done something wrong. You're an inch from death, but still as stubborn as ever. When do you learn? He was right, he was right, he was right. You've screwed up big time, and now you're paying the price. But so is he. He has won, yet he is left with no prize. His victory is as much of a loss as yours, isn't it?  
Both of you are alone now, no one to care for the other, just waiting for death to swoop in and save you.  
You've made mistake, but there's no turning back now.

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** AN: I can hear crickets chirping in the silence.**


	43. Pretty

Such a shame it is that her pretty, pretty face doesn't match that ugly, ugly soul. Such a shame that her beautiful features aren't mirrored from within. A tragedy that those blue eyes won't hold anything but hate. And it's a pity how her preaching of love never seem to reach her own ears. She wishes that sparkly smile held more than, "Let's try to put on a happy face." Oh, it's a tragedy how that angelic face doesn't match with her heart. Try to make them match for yourself, or at least for him. Try for that pretty soul.

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**AN: Tired of her yet? I am. Sorry for that, but...**


	44. Ready

She wasn't ready. She knew it. She has known it. She'd never, ever admit it, but she knew that she couldn't do it. She couldn't possibly come out of this Great Prophecy thing a hero, at least, not the "hero of the prophecy" or whatever they were calling that these days. Ridiculous as it may sound, she was scared. All because of a cow serpent and her sweet sixteenth birthday, she was terrified. Crazy or not, this could not be her choice. It was up to him. He could make the right one when she chickened out. She knew it.

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**AN: Not my favorite at all, but at least I tried.**


	45. Scarring

The claw tears at him, shredding his face, scarring it forever, leaving a permanent reminder. Of course, while blood pours from his face by the gallon, and tears sting his eyes, unshed because it hurts too much to cry, the last bit of respect he had for his father vanishes. The last hope he had is erased. The hissing, raspy voice was right. He's a no-good loser of a father. A hand me down quest, a failed one at that, given to him. Why? Likely for something to watch on Hephaestus TV. Oh, they'll pay, the dragon, his father, everyone.

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**AN: Oh, good. I was scared it was another Silena piece!**


	46. Son

Being a child of Athena, he never was one for emotional stuff. That was more for Aphrodite kids, always caught up in who should get together. This week, it seemed to be Travis Stoll and Katie Gardner (because they got along so horribly it was meant to be, they insisted). However, this didn't make him an idiot. He saw some things. He was not blind to all but equations, physics, and dictionaries. Wisdom he valued highly, and with that came knowing love when he saw it.  
Sure, looking at maps. Did that black-haired boy forget that Malcom was Athena's son?

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**AN: Love this scene, and saw *burdge-bug's (deviantart) drawing. Fate.**


	47. Villain

It seems like he had become a real villain over the years, doesn't it? He's always saying, "It's for the greater good," even when he knows it's complete nonsense. Destruction does no good at all. Killing doesn't make everything better. Pretending helps nothing, it only sets him into a clouded sleep. Sitting by the fire, describing today's fallen demigods, risen monsters, and joined gods, doesn't make for cheery conversation. And, as he goes on retelling his capture of a Jettings boy, he can't help but notice the glint of red in his eye. He prays it's due to the flame.

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**AN: Ignore quote please. And the random name (Jettings). Thank you.**


	48. Ridiculous

A few people had commented on Tyson when he had turned up. There were the usual cries of disgust (the term monster was used), and the usual teasing. He was used to it by now. He was used to nothing else. But, as this Camp was safe, something that was so unfamiliar, someone had to surprise him with something even stranger. "Isn't he adorable?" an Aphrodite girl squealed (apparently they didn't just care about looks!) Oh, he had been called adorable, cute… Ridiculous. He had seen things she'd never seen. Just because he smiles doesn't mean he lacks a brain.

* * *

** AN: I cannot get a feel for his character. I tried...**


	49. Age

At age seven, she gave up being a child. At the same age, she started figuring herself out. At age twelve, it happened in reverse, she didn't know what to think. Her life had been flip-flopped as "the One" appeared at Camp Half-Blood. At thirteen, she had experienced pain that few others of the same age (or older) had experienced, while at fourteen she was stolen from everything she knew. Fifteen years old, and she had given away her first kiss in a situation less than ideal Age sixteen, and she lost hope. She had grown up far too fast.

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**AN: Dedicated to my friend, Evie, because she is amazingly nice.**


	50. Unlike

Unlike many arguing campers, their parents had gotten along fairly well. They had no huge rivalry (the most significant disagreement was over his father not eating enough cereal, actually). It wasn't like they were destined to hate each other. It wasn't like they were complete opposites merely due to their parents. It didn't keep them from clashing like their Camp shirts did with pastels. She was orderly, planting her flowers in perfect little rows. He was a total mess, topping the roof unevenly with nearly melted chocolate bunnies. When would they learn that they didn't have to hate each other?

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**AN: Is my research correct? I'm not sure if it is.**


	51. Animal

He's not that different from other centaurs, he thinks. There's that half of him that doesn't agree with the other. It's always man versus horse; never perfect harmony. One side always yearns to be the dominant one, to take control over him. The Party Ponies seem to have this issue, as well, but in reverse. For them, it's animal that wins out. Always. And, for Chiron, the human part of him has most control. Good or bad is hard to say. If he let himself become more like an animal, it wouldn't hurt so much when another demigod was lost.

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**AN: I can't remember the last time I read about centaurs...**


	52. Wrong

The first time he killed someone—an actual person, not a monster—he knew it was time to stop. Once a person has killed another, there is no turning back, and now that he had... It was bad when his master killed someone (he cringed), but the pain he felt once he had killed was awful (it felt like his insides were tearing themselves apart); he felt worse than his victim. He had done just the opposite of what he had wanted. He had hurt the world much more than he had helped it. Then he knew he was wrong.

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**AN: *whistles innocently* Psh, I was totally studying for my test!**


	53. Jealous

Everyone was so jealous of those children of Hermes. Everyone was envious of how much company they had. Never, ever were they left alone. And the saying was proven true: the grass is always greener on the other side. Because while the other cabins wished to be part of that big, seemingly happy family of Hermes children, the sons and daughters of Hermes were all jealous of the others. The others were always better. Better gardeners, better archers, better thinkers. And what were those common Hermes folk? Nothing but a band of thieves, crammed together, always forgotten by the others.

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**AN: Thanks for reading. (And thanks to favorite-ers, subscribers, and reviewers.)**


	54. Taken

She waits for death with the knowledge that her friends are safe. She waits for pain that never comes. She waits and waits for Judgment, yet it never arrives. She's been stolen from death. She doesn't know what to think. Should she be grateful that she won't face punishment—was she still considered a no-good runaway after sacrificing herself so her friends could live? Should she be frightened that she will always be trapped in this in-between state, half alive and half dead? She's been stolen from death and taken from reality, and Thalia has no idea what to think.

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**AN:Over twenty reviews and five favorites? I'm flattered. Really, thanks. :)**


	55. Soon

It's kind of funny how one day your biggest worry is that your mom will be upset that you've been expelled from _another_ school, and three days later, you wake up and realize a few things: your mother is dead, the Greek gods are real (and your father's one), you're at a camp for people like you, and finally, you have to save the world. Oh, and you find out that your favorite teacher is a horse. So, where's that shining light (because life's pretty bad now)? When do you finally get a break from this? (Let it be soon.)

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**AN: Does anyone know how to post new stories?**


	56. Intolerably

He's changed the way he looks at things. Every new event used to be something pleasant, like a present you didn't know you were getting. Everything was great, each surprise a birthday gift two months early. Then, there came a surprise, arriving like a punch in the face, unexpected and unbearably, painful, intolerably real. And with each sound, however small, he turned around. Each disturbance in the air was a pinch, awakening the scared animal. Maybe if things had been different, surprises would have always been good, but he's changed the way he looks at things, and they aren't anymore.

* * *

**AN: Just so you know, the majority of this isn't literal.**


	57. September

To be frank, September sucked.  
It was like everything rested on the thirty-first day of August. Once the day had passed, there was no more hope (however small) that school would somehow disappear, to be replaced with Camp. And, on August the thirty-first there were goodbyes.  
Goodbye to Grover, goodbye to Annabeth, goodbye to cabin three. Goodbye to the place that had been home for so many months.  
Always he had to look back once, and keep the thought that it would somehow back up time.  
One day, he didn't look back, and he was actually looking forward to September.

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**AN: Not my favorite, decent, I'd say.**


	58. Bus

They met at a bus station, casually enough. Many people met each other that way, striking up a conversation with the person nearest to them. They nodded at each other when their eyes met, and that was that, until they found themselves face to face with a hellhound—or, in the mortals' eyes, a champion show dog. Both swore colorfully under their breath, and pulled out bronze weapons. Combined, the monster was reduced to dust in ten minutes, leaving mortals curious where the pretty dog had gone. The two shared bitter smiles as they made plans to keep themselves safe.

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**AN: 43.8596491% of this story is reviewed. Thanks to everyone who has. :)**


	59. Killer

The guilt comes unexpectedly. She is modelling a new pair of earrings-pink hearts that are engraved with golden letters that constantly change, reading the initials of Camp latest couple. The entire cabin seems to approve of the new accessory.  
"Awesome."  
"Wicked."  
"Oh my gods!"  
"That's neat!"  
"Cool."  
Then, one of her half-sisters says, "Killer." Oh, how right she is.  
Suddenly the air around Silena feels cold, yet she feels a slight blush rise to her cheeks. "Yeah, uh, thanks," says she, clearly uncomfortable.  
No more is said in the Aphrodite cabin that day, and Silena is glad for the silence.

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**AN: Thank you. :)**


	60. Cries

Maybe it's because he isn't a year-rounder, but he doesn't feel right about the way they send people off. He's had plenty of time to adjust to the Greek ideas about death; he's even been to the Underworld. But it just feels wrong to burn the shrouds. It's almost like saying, "Yeah, you died, but we really couldn't care less. We're just going to forget about you. That's how unimportant you are." He wishes Camp Half-Blood did something to show the opposite, that those fallen campers were—are—important because it's true. But until then, he secretly cries every time.

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**AN: Thank you to everyone who's been supporting my writing lately.**


	61. Call

She pulled out the Sharpie, pocketing the cap. She sketched quickly on his hand—something she was surprisingly skilled at. _Six-four-six-five-five-nine-seven-zero, R.E.D._ She pulled her phone number out of her head as speedily as she wrote it, choppy black lettering left where the marker had touched his skin. The girl beside him looked upset. He simply stared down at his hand with a slightly curious expression, like he didn't quite understand. With a demand for an explanation and a half smile, the red-haired girl disappeared from view. The rest of that summer would be spent waiting for him to call.

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**AN: Entirely made-up number. Don't call it. **


	62. Hamster

It's funny how life can come at you with surprise after surprise, and you're still stunned.  
Maybe it's because they get progressively worse.  
Your hamster died.  
We think you're crazy.  
Oh, yeah, someone tried to run you through with a sword, but, yeah, it did pass right though you. (No big deal.)  
And, oh, right. You're right. The Greek gods (and monsters) are real. But, yes, you're the one of the few that knows it. (See? Not crazy at all.)  
Oh—yeah, almost forgot! Now, you get to frolic through the Labyrinth and face all those monsters!  
Yeah, it's hilarious.

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**AN: Me, sarcastic? Psh.**


	63. Life

Dying, dying, dying, and all she can think about is life. (Funny, isn't it?) What might have, could have, should have been. She could have been with Charlie for years. She should have told the truth. She might have spent forever and ever and ever with Charlie, if only she had been a better person. If only she hadn't been such a coward. If only she were truly perfect.

But she wasn't. And now that she's dying, dying, dying and thinking all about life (what might have, could have, should have been), it's too late to do anything about it.

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**AN: Inspiration for this came from a lovely review.**


	64. Rainbow

"Iris, goddess of the rainbow, accept my offering."  
It was kind of funny; she had to admit, sending a message via rainbow in the land of the dead. But, all humor aside, it had to be done. This was important. Seriously important.  
Her brother was there, too. Her perfectly alive brother hanging out with the dead. That was a problem. No doubt, that was seriously an issue.  
"Percy Jackson."  
She stopped out of the message's view (could IMs show the dead?) and presented Nico to the person on the other end of the message.  
Oh, he had better get this.

* * *

**AN: Overflow of posting has occurred.**


	65. Dance

They ended up dancing together. Why they had to slow dance together way beyond him. Honestly! Could there be a more awkward situation? Hey, Percy, slow dance with one of your best friends. That will get you to act casually! _Totally._ He agreed with Thalia: Green Day should have been playing, not this Jesse McCartny trash. It was torture, absolute torture. Having to sway on the spot, hands and face burning as she gripped his wrist tightly…it was excruciatingly painful.

Well, at least one thing was for certain: No one would guess it was Percy Jackson dancing with Annabeth Chase.

* * *

**AN: Here's a bit of fluff.**


	66. Poodle

Poodles are quite nice, really. Wonderful, actually, one could even say. It sounds rather odd, seeing it written down, looking completely pointless. There are more important things one could document. There could be tales told of great, slimy snakes; thieves; murders, stories of witches; brave, noble wizards; dragons. But, while not as spectacular, a poodle is plenty important. In fact, if it weren't for a poodle, the tale could go no further. A courageous trio would have been lost, had it not been for the animal. Oh, and it was fluffy and pink. Yes, poodles are very lovely animals indeed.

* * *

**AN: I was in the mood to write something odd, and...**


	67. Childhood

It was sort of weird, after the war. Suddenly, there wasn't anything weighing him down. He had no prophecy to fulfill. He and Annabeth were not silently warring to see who could hurt the other more. Rachel was no longer confusing him with her million-emotion game (though to say she was no longer confusing would be one of the biggest lies he'd ever told). Blackjack was even making attempt to cut down the use of the word boss. He didn't have a care in the world. It was absolutely brilliant. He only wished that was what his childhood was like.

* * *

**AN: I'll probably be writing some more today, by the way.**


	68. Worry

Years of worrying all led up to this. It was funny in a sick way. She'd been spending so much time afraid that Percy would die. And how many times had Luke come to mind as one of the fallen? Once? Twice? Three times at most. She had always thought him too strong to die. She never expected, never dreamed it would be him. She was so sure it would be Percy; she didn't worry about anyone else. There were brief moments of hoping that so-and-so would be okay, it was always Percy… And now she's sorry for never worrying.

* * *

**AN: I seem to be in a Last Olympian mood today...**


	69. Enough

She had spent her whole life worrying that she wasn't enough.

She wasn't enough for Nico, who needed a proper family. She could always try to be more than a sister—a protector, a friend—but she couldn't be stretched so far.

She wasn't enough in school. She didn't know about 9/11 when they asked about it. She couldn't read her schoolbooks.

She wasn't enough for anyone who tried to befriend her. She was always too busy with Nico or too shy to really speak.

But she was his world, and when she left, neither one wasn't anything at all.

* * *

**AN: Thanks for reading. :)**


	70. Crush

Sitting in a circle with lunches that didn't belong to them were girls—lots. In the center was a magazine, which all of the girls were leaning over.  
One of Nancy Bobofit's many friends giggled and pointed to an article. "'Your Secret Crush!'" a blonde girl read. "Nancy, how about you?"  
The freckled girl smiled, feigning sweetness, agreeing reluctantly.  
Another girl smiled and said, "Yeah, Nancy, you and…Percy."  
Nancy answered the questions sounding bored, and picking the crust from a stolen sandwich's edge.  
Once the results were calculated, many girls laughed out loud. One scowled. _You've got a major crush._

* * *

**AN: Random.**


	71. iPods

There is nothing worse than being a child of Apollo. Why is that? Why is it any worse than being the child of Hecate, or Zeus, or Athena, or Nemesis? Why are the children of Apollo any worse off? Ha-ha. You're thinking you're all clever now, aren't you? Well, here's news for you. Camp has officially banned all iPods. Someone ought to call the police, really. That's how bad it is. They're saying it's for safety, but it's awful. No music at all, except for the songs of those satyrs! Let's face it, they're pathetic. Yes, pity the Apollo campers.

* * *

**AN: I've been experimenting with different styles, as you can see.**


	72. Alive

They never thought he'd make it out alive. It was always, always, always more of a let's-keep-him-around-as long-as-we-can sort of thing. It wasn't treated as a reasonable guess. It was nothing more or less than fact, as far as anyone was concerned. The child of the prophecy was going to die. That child was Percy Jackson. So, Percy Jackson was going to die on his sixteenth birthday. But, then, believe it or not (not, most often), he lived. He turned sixteen, and he was still breathing, still hoping. He couldn't be any more alive. And never had it felt better.

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**AN: I'd feel awesome if I survived when nobody expected it.**


	73. Magic

He never believed in magic. It was just for those silly stories, silly dreams that never came true. It wasn't for the real world, where those awful nightmares always, always came true. It wasn't the truth. Real was not having a father. Real was wondering if his mother would lose her job. Real was being teased every day. But, no matter what anyone argued, magic wasn't real. There was happiness, but only sometimes. Some people would call that magic. (It wasn't.) Then, there was Camp. He was right all along. No such thing as magic, just bad dreams come true.

* * *

**AN: Not entirely accurate. I changed things to fit better here...**


	74. Rats

Being stuck to George was absolute torture sometimes. All he did, every single day, was go on and on about rats! Honestly, he could at least find something a bit more exciting to talk about. Maybe he could throw in the latest Olympian gossip every one in awhile. They certainly heard enough of it to have an educated conversation. _No!_ Always rats.

"Have you heard, Martha? There's a new type of rat, sort of a hybrid. It'll be bigger and better than any before. Perfect for eating!"

"Oh, hooray. Have you heard—?"

"About the escaped rats? Yeah. Exciting, huh?"

* * *

**AN: Fun to write.**


	75. Mommy

Mommy was always there. She was quiet—exceptionally so, in fact—most of the time, usually with Daddy. But when she did speak, it was quite nice to hear her voice. Sure, sometimes she had a complaint against her daughter. ("Why aren't you following in my footsteps?") But, most of the time, it was very comforting. Daddy was louder and more stubborn. Rachel didn't like it. It didn't seem like Mommy did, either. Whenever Daddy would hurt Rachel's feelings, Mommy would always say that it was only stress, that Daddy only wanted the best. Mommy was really a nice person.

* * *

**AN: Only a thought I had... Happy Mother's Day, dear readers! (:**


	76. Ironic

There are many things in life that are ironic. There are, therefore, quite as many things in the life of the demigod as there are in mortal life. First on the list was Dionysus, the wine god forbidden from alcohol. Then, there was Apollo, god of poetry's complete lack of skill in that area. (No matter what he said, he lacked poetic talent.) But, then, there was the unexpected one. There was the terrifying one, the example that was not as funny as terrifying. The goddess of love had never truly known love. Was there hope for it at all?

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**AN: Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed this drabble.**


	77. Prank

Duller people—far less clever than the Stolls—would say that joking doesn't solve problems. They'd say that the laughter is only for sometimes. And the Stolls would not agree at all. Laughter is for always, they'd argue without success. But, see, they would get the others to see the light. Those who failed to see the logical side of things would find themselves to have fallen prey to the latest prank of the Stolls. Whether it is the unknowing purchaser of some highly illegal product or the camper who had received a very interesting haircut, they had it coming.

* * *

**AN: Just a lighter piece for your amusement. Thanks for reading.**


	78. Actress

You are looking very pretty tonight. (No one would ever think that you were on a mission.) Your princess curls are shining so brightly under that hat. (Who would think that was a rarity?) Your eyes are gleaming so sweetly. (It's almost like they've never seen the horrors you know.) A smile is drawn out on an angelic face. (No one would ever guess it was a nervous one.) You look very put together. (Not a soul would consider that you aren't.)

You are truly a brilliant actress. No one even knows that you could fall apart at any second.

* * *

**AN: It hasn't been ages, but I feel rusty.**


	79. Facts

She liked to collect facts. It wasn't a bizarre habit, but it was always looked upon with some skepticism. Many people seemed to be under the impression that no sane person should know how exactly long the Statue of Liberty would last on the sun. She disagreed. They were fascinating bits of information. And they kept her from becoming what they thought she was—insane. Knowing that some things were just that sure… There was a feeling of comfort in that. Prophecies were uncertain as always, and gods knew Percy was. But the facts never were, no matter how insignificant.

* * *

**AN: Gods, this really is getting harder as it goes on.**


	80. Trouble

The thing about gym teachers is that they often know more than you'd expect. Coach Nunley could actually see past his magazine. (They did get boring after a while, you know; celebrity scandals could only last for so long.) And, oh, the things he saw. He saw bullying, especially from that Sloan child. There were always insecurities to be observed, the big kid changing in private, and the Jackson boy always looking nervously over his shoulder. But he never did anything about it. Their lives were not his to meddle in. The trouble with gym teachers is that they often pretend not to know as much as they do.

* * *

** AN: SoM-set**


	81. Mercenaries

They were fighting for a good cause, they were told. There were children, the nice blonde boy said, who were being tortured. And just it _had to _stop. He even said that there would be payment made to those who fought loyally for the lives of innocent children. And so they wholeheartedly agreed to this plan. They would be saving the helpless. Could there be a nobler task? Mercenaries being paid in more ways than one, they were all too willing to help. But they were not helping the innocent. They were _killing_ the innocent. But it was too late.

* * *

**AN: D'you remember the mortals in TTC?**


	82. Cheerleaders

There was something fishy about those cheerleaders. Of course, Rachel had always had a strong disliking for many of them, particularly the type that displayed that unhealthy amount of pep. But, really, there was something very wrong about those girls—if they were even girls. They were horrible donkey-and-bronze-legged beasts. Their skin—which the other girls were staring at enviously, like it was straight from a Proactive commercial—was a sickly white. And reflecting off of the ghostly skin was the gleam of red eyes. Their teeth, whiter than the girls' moon-bright complexions were suspiciously sharp. Monsters. Typical cheerleaders, right?

* * *

**AN: As usual, I don't mean to offend anyone by this.**


	83. Truck

"That's a very nice truck," the girl remarked from the back seat.

"The one in front of us?" her mother asked, and received an enthusiastic nod in response. "Oh, yes, Sophie. It is very nice."

The girl's huge eyes studied it carefully. "It even has a puppy on it! Look, mom! Isn't that cool?"

The woman smiled without taking her eyes from the crowed road. "It's a lovely truck, Sophie." It was just a shame it wouldn't get out of the way. Honestly, the light was green.

Neither found anything more interesting. After all, a giant dog was just absurd.

* * *

**AN: Mrs. O'Leary...**


	84. Author

It's funny that she'd want to be an author, really. Doesn't she get enough excitement with a son who just so happens to be the (forbidden) son of Poseidon. Let's throw in some pretend monsters. I'm sure they'd get on well with the very real monsters. At least, that's what Percy says. She thinks otherwise. It's nice, she thinks, to be able to control this world, and when it gets too scary, you can just _erase and start fresh. _And that is so much better than this unpredictable, untamable chaos that is the life of Sally Jackson and her son.

* * *

**AN: I seem to have a thing with mortals...**


	85. Songs

The songs of the Sirens still ring in her ears when all is silent. They always will be, and she knows it. And every time the enchanting tune comes to mind, she's back there for a moment, swimming toward everything she wants. Swimming away from that complicated demigod life, toward her perfect world. A normal world, a world of family, picnics, and life past her teenage years. She's heading toward it… Every time she replays that song, there's a moment when she's back there. And something awakes her every time, just as before. She returns to the real world again.

* * *

**AN: Organization isn't the best, but the idea I like somewhat.**


	86. Fishy

There had always been something fishy about the Jacksons, Paul had always known. He knew now that it was slightly more literal that he had imagined. Percy Jackson, the son of Poseidon, Greek god of the sea. Well, that was interesting. It did, at least, explain a lot. His weird behavior, for one thing, when Sally mentioned his summer camp. It was a camp for kids like him. When they went fishing together, the boy had squirmed when they caught one of allowed size, like he could hear it pleading. _He could. _Indeed, the Jacksons were a very fishy family.

* * *

**AN: Sorry about that bad pun, but...no excuse.**


	87. Dog

The thought of the dog triggers tears. And it's not because of the dog itself. Gods, no, she hated that dog. It slobbered all over her clothes, and followed her around biting her ankles. There wasn't even a bit of her that held affection for the rotten dog. At best, she had come to terms with the fact the dog hated her, and had come to somewhat respect it as one would respect a powerful enemy. So these tears are not for that dog. They are there reminding her of how quickly that dog-filled, normal childhood of hers had ended.

* * *

**AN: It's based on page 297 of _The Lightning Thief_. **


	88. Crumble

It's the coward's solution, she knows. But she had been brave enough as she waited; only crying once or twice, because she's no coward. She's courageous Annabeth. So just this once, she can take the easy way out, and give him the silent treatment, carefully avoid his eyes. Really, what's the difference? She's been so strong through all of this. And she can stay strong, because now of all times, she cannot break, not even a bit. So, if that means putting more effort into it, so be it. Because _she will not crumble_, no matter how close she comes.

* * *

**AN: It's been ages. This isn't great. My apologies.**


	89. Garbage

None of them were perfect, not at all. They were all abandoned, failed creations. _Junk, trash, garbage, rubbish. _However you put it, they were still just as unwanted, just as unsuccessful.

Putting the name "defective" on it just made Talos even more upset, even angrier. So he drew his sword. He was fighting, not only against these cruel intruders, these lawless thieves, but against the same cruelty and carelessness that had put him there to begin with. And he was fighting to prove that no, Hephaestus, he was not useless. He might not be perfect, but he was still important.

* * *

**AN: That pick-a-random-page-and-write-for-it thing didn't work well...**


	90. Headline

"Percy Jackson—Hoodlum or Hero?"

"Are you serious?" Percy grabbed the article. It was still ridiculous, changing from international criminal to courageous hero so very quickly.

"That's the headline," said Grover. "But if you don't mind, I'd like the paper back."

Percy, who had been anxious to read the full article, gave his friend a confused look.

"I'm out of tin cans. Newspaper isn't exactly fine dining, but it will have to do." Well, brave Percy Jackson's story would have to wait until later, wouldn't it? After all, depriving Grover of newspaper in addition to tin cans…it wouldn't end well.

* * *

**AN: 10 left.**


	91. Raze

"R-a-z-e means destroy." _Just like you're doing, _destroying, says the ever-present voice from the depths of Silena's mind. Of course she would give its definition, with all the experience she's had.

"Obliterate." Charlie. All her fault he was _obliterated, _no matter what she told herself."Turn to rubble." How many things ruined, how many bodies buried beneath the rubble, all because of her?

"Got it," says Percy, and it hits her that he really doesn't understand a thing about the definition. He hasn't caused so much destruction, not yet. He wouldn't know. Silena does, and she hopes _Percy _never will.

* * *

**AN: ...8**


	92. Sandwiches

Would she ever know that it happened? Would she realize that at last her boy was taken from her? Would she know there was no one to bake cookies for, no one to make sandwiches for? Or would she simply be living her life in that dazed world of hers, never aware that he would never be coming home? Maybe she was stirring some Kool-Aid right at that moment, while waiting for the cookies to finish baking. Or perhaps she knew, perhaps she had seen that somehow. And all of those peanut butter sandwiches and cookies would go to waste.

* * *

**AN: May Castellan. Oddly enough, I hadn't written about her before.**


	93. Prisoner

Maybe it sounded like a fairytale to some of them, staying on a pretty island, tending to a lovely garden, and knowing that it's only a matter of time until someone shows up, and you fall in love. Maybe it sounded like a pleasant vacation to others, being completely oblivious of the outside world unless someone should tell you. And to most, it sounded like a _reward_. But they didn't know. This was a prison, just as intended by those who had trapped you here forever. And Ogygia sounded very much like _torture _to you, its one and only prisoner.

* * *

**AN: Calypso... You're welcome to suggest something.**


	94. Sticks

Sticks? She certainly could go to the sticks! That would be fantastic. Maybe not as good as her rubber yak, but still—sticks! Mrs. O'Leary made it clear how very capable she was of this task, before allowing Percy and Nico to climb on her back. She raced toward the gates in search of the sticks, and heard Cerberus barking enviously.

They didn't seem to be pleased with the location until they reached the large, dirty water bowl, where there weren't many sticks at all.

Oh, well, she could just play with that deflated red ball of Cerberus's for now…

* * *

**Thanks to StarlitReader for requesting Mrs. O'Leary.**


	95. Pillow

Duct tape—check. Lighter—check. Swiss army knife—check. Water—check. GPS, camping roll, superglue—check.

A pillow… Bargain Mart's camping department hadn't carried _that_.

There, just next to the kitchen department was bedding. There were sheets with hundreds of colorful polka-dots; large, fluffy comforters; striped neon bedspreads that seemed even more blinding than usual under the florescent lighting… But no suitable pillow.

He passed blue—_something_ about that color was important—comforters, and sheets all sorts of colors until finally he saw a large, fluffy animal sitting alone on a dusty shelf. A panda pillow pet would certainly work.

* * *

**SoN**


	96. Just

What's worse than remembering nothing is remembering that one thing. Just the one pretty, blond-haired girl called Annabeth. That's all you know about, and every day there's just a little bit more about her, a tiny detail like the way she loves architecture or the way that perpetual smirk of hers. And every day, you want to know a bit more. You want to know if you had any inside jokes or any funny stories. You want to know if you had adventures together, if you were best friends.

And you really want to know her like you did before.

* * *

**AN: I liked SoN more than I did TLH...**


	97. Replaced

"Y'know, Helios," Apollo said, "It's kinda hard for me to say this. I mean, we love you and all, but I don't think that this is going to work out."

Helios did not respond.

"And well, we're thinking some young blood might be nice. It's much, well, easier to visit a temple dedicated to an attractive god..." Apollo paused a moment, most likely appreciating his stunning appearance.

He went on a moment later, flashing his blinding white smile as he did so, like it would help his case. "Bro, it's hard for me to say this, but you've been replaced."

* * *

**AN: Well, that was interesting.**


	98. Name

"Oh, Chiron, it's lovely to see you again!"

"Mr. Brunner," he corrected, gesturing at the wheelchair. "Not Chiron."

"I'm undercover as well, but I'm not changing my name."

"Undercover?" Chiron asked. "How so?"

She pointed at the hairnet restraining the black bun atop her head, then at the apron. "I'm working in the cafeteria."

A look of sudden realization flashed across Chiron's face.

"Aren't the Ding Dongs delicious? I think these students are well on their way to a healthier life. It's definitely looking up, don't you think?"

"Oh, yes," said Chiron, "definitely."

"And don't forget—hoof moisturizer on sale!"

* * *

**AN: Allow me to point out that this ship was created by Kelly, aka livingondaydreams.**


	99. Calloused

You don't know why you chose him. He isn't attractive or anything. Far from it. You hardly make a cute couple.

But he's—he's powerful. All four and a half feet of him. But he's rather determined, isn't he? He would never shut up, and he would never _give_ up. (Though charmspeak is a bit of an exception to, well, _everything_.)

And as you're holding his hand, calloused and sticky from rosin, you feel like it all makes even less sense than it did before.

But honestly, you're not going to bother making more sense.

Because he'll definitely accomplish something.

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**AN: I hope you see what I did there, with the word... Drew and Michael, if you couldn't tell. Because everyone needs to write about good, ol' manipulative Drew and some random camper. You probably thought I was joking when I said that Tumblr post made me want to write a PJO fic... Nope.**


	100. Schadenfreude

There were several words that Annabeth Chase would use to describe Percy Jackson.

None of them were very pleasant. Really, this was hardly a new development.

But she attempted to think about positive things, despite the fact that her dislike for him was rapidly growing larger than a battleship. And she tried to ignore that they were facing certain death again, and all they had were a few flimsy bits of bronze. She tried to think of pleasant things—really, the seaside wasn't so bad.

(But when her foot slipped, she didn't try all that hard to mask her schadenfreude.)

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**AN: I posted a slightly longer version on Tumblr, because I was to write something with the words: battleship, seaside, bronze, and schadenfreude.**


End file.
